


Of Swords and Roses

by empty_cup_and_a_chipped_heart



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Knight!Rumple, Lady!Belle, Rumple is Belle's guard, Slow Burn, by the way, it's all sorts of pain, since you can never have too many Knight!Rumple fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3897535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empty_cup_and_a_chipped_heart/pseuds/empty_cup_and_a_chipped_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the ogres drawing nearer everyday, Sir Maurice asks Sir Rumplestiltskin of the Frontlands to protect his daughter. However it's nowhere near as easy as that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Since the fandom is inundated with Knight!Rumple fics, I thought I might as well add to the growing pile. You can never have to many Knight!Rumple fics.

Sir Rumplestiltskin of the Frontlands clutched the missive in his hand, staring at the entrance to Sir Maurice’s manor. It was more stronghold than manor, a dark, dank place, and Rumpletiltskin wondered how anyone could live there. It sucked out the life and light of everything.

A stable boy ran up, taking his horse from him and directing him to where Sir Maurice was waiting. Rumplestiltskin knew exactly what Maurice wanted from him, he had the letter memorized. He wanted to ignore it, and nearly did, not fond of being pulled out of his self-imposed retirement. But he couldn’t leave a child defenseless and if Maurice wanted a protector for his daughter a protector he would get.

He strutted in, pretending to know the place better than he actually did. It had been years since he was here and the last time--

"Oof." He stumbled back, falling over, as some unseen force barrelled into him.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry." Hands appeared on his shoulders, steadying him, and he looked into concerned cerulean eyes.

"Are you quite all right?" She asked, running her hands down his arms. A path of heat followed her hands, and he was momentarily distracted by how close she was.

"Yes fine." He choked out, nearly tearing his arms out of her grasp. It had been too long since someone had touched him, much less than with concern.

"I am very sorry. I hadn't meant to run into you."

He saw her for the first time. She stood in front of him in a dress of gold, her hair pulled back from her temples, leaving the rest of the chestnut curls to tumble down her back. He was at a lost for words. Who was this beauty?

"Did you hit your head?" She reached out to touch his temple, and he stumbled back. No, no more touching.

“No. I’m fine. Thank you. I am looking for Sir Maurice.”

"Oh! Just up the stairs and to the left. He’s in his study." She explained, gesturing to the staircase she just came down. "Will you be here long?"

"As of now it is indefinite."

"Well perhaps we will see each other again. Hopefully without me knocking you over." She picked up the book she dropped after running into him and gave Rumplestiltskin before running off.  
***  
“Nice to see you again! We’ve missed you terribly.” Maurice shook his hand heartily, slapping him on the back so hard he nearly fell over. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today. “And thank you, for taking up my summons.”

“It was my pleasure.” A lie, but he really couldn’t have turned him down if he tried.

“The ogres are fighting their way through our forces everyday, and are drawing closer everyday. I fear for my daughter. She needs protection.”

“Of course.” Rumplestiltskin fought down the feeling bitterness that rose in his chest. Where were the fair, justful knights when his son-- he shook himself. The past was in the past and he would do everything to ensure Sir Maurice’s child was kept safe.

“Kneel.” Maurice commanded.

Rumplestiltskin knelt on the rich, Agrahban carpet, bowed his head. He was surprised of the lack of fanfare. He expected more fanfare, he was going to be protecting the heir to this small patch of land, and he began to wonder if they were worse off than he thought.

“Sir Rumplestlitskin of the Frontlands will you protect my daughter and heir at all costs, even of your own life?”

“Yes.”

Maurice stared him down, mentally assessing him.

“Very good. Stand.” He stood, the old familiar pain going through his knee. Maurice pulled on a rope hanging from the wall summoning, Rumplestiltskin assumed, a servant.

One came running up but moments later, bowing and murmuring apologies for being late. Rumplestiltskin couldn’t believe how high Maurice had climbed in the last twenty or so years. He knew he had married well and high-above his station, but now he was more king than knight.

“Please escort Lady Belle. It’s time you get acquainted with your new charge.” Maurice directed the last part to him, gesturing for him to sit.

He sat, waiting in silence for his charge to come. Maurice reviewed battle plans while munching loudly on a scone a servant had brought up with the tea. Rumplestiltskin grew more and more annoyed with every passing moment, listening to Maurice snack loudly. He was nearly ready to snap, ruining the entire agreement.

“Ah there she is! Come here Belle.” Maurice stood up, brushing crumbs off his hands and doublet.

A young woman-- she wasn’t a child at all-- stepped into the room, pressing a kiss against her father’s cheek. “Hello Papa.”

She stepped further into the room, giving Rumplestiltskin a dazzling smile. It faltered, and then her face flushed as she recognized him.

This was the gorgeous woman who ran into him earlier. The one who set his body aflame with a few simple touches, and now he was charged with her well-being.

This was never going to be easy was it?  
***  
They had been together for but a week, Sir Rumplstiltskin dogging her every step, and she was already slowly falling in love with him. He was kind, attentive and never once did he try to press her into doing anything, unlike her father and her sort-of fiancé. He also was incredibly good company, and he always engaged her conversation. He read nearly as much as her and actually took her recommendations for books.

She flopped down on her bed and sighed heavily. Sir Rumplestiltskin was a true knight, unlike Sir Gaston and how her father had been. Belle craved his company, and wanted much more than that. But how could she ever get any more? His job was to watch over and ensure her safety, and he couldn’t possibly ever be interested in her. He’d probably met all sorts of worldly, well-travelled women, ones that hadn’t been sheltered and protected from birth.

She laughed mirthlessly. It was never going to be easy was it?


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is increasingly clumsy, cups are chipped, and denial runs rampant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again unbeta'd. So have pity on my inability to spell and my lack of structured grammar. Any mistake that is seen, please point out. Spell check can only do so much.   
> Enjoy!

Belle lived her entire life under the watch of another. When she was young, she had an entire gaggle of ladies and soldiers mirroring her every move. Within the last five years, Sir Gaston took away them all but was as controlling. She hated all of it. She hated being coddled, treated as if she’d break at any moment, She was strong enough to deal with what was happening in their world. No one wanted to-- or were allowed to, Belle guessed-- discuss what exactly what was happening with the ogres on the front line. Anything she knew, she heard behind closed doors or from whispers that were quickly shushed when she entered the room. Belle knew this was all due to her father losing her mother when she was but a few months old, but she just wanted to be treated like she was a rational, thinking person. 

Of course, it was hard to be treated like a rational, thinking person when she had borrowed (not stolen like her father said, it was their horse) and went riding. And then fell off and sprained both her ankle and wrist and was saved by the very knight who was supposed to watch over her and protect her. She winced at the events that had transpired the day before and finished pouring her afternoon tea. She wouldn’t have had to take such aggressive measures if she was allowed to go out every now and again, but there was no reasoning with her father, especially now as the ogres were moving ever closer. 

House arrest wasn’t fun on the best of days, but even worse when one had a very grumpy knight to spend the day with.

“Please sit, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to get out for a bit. I am very sorry.”  
He sat, still half-scowling, as she made his tea. She hoped it would soothe his ruffled feelings, but it did nothing. Even three sugars and cream couldn’t fix this. 

***  
He couldn’t relax, couldn’t calm down. He thought for sure he’d end up reliving that day, that he’d have to return another lifeless body of a child to their father. The memory of her lying on the cold ground wrapped in a sodden cloak was burned into his mind. The fear and dread came back ten fold as he rushed to her side, and on finding her alive, if a little sprained, turned those feelings into relief and anger. She laughed it off, saying she was fine, mush worse had happened before, and it made him even more angry. Could she not see what it would do if she ended up seriously injured? Or dead? 

“I’m not a child, Sir Rumplestiltskin. I’m an adult who can take care of herself.” She reached out and laid a hand on one of his white-knuckled fists, stroking it softly. “I know it’s hard for you and Papa to understand.”

That was one of the problems, though wasn’t it? He didn’t view her as a child. He expected a child, Sir Maurice’s young daughter. He hadn’t expected a self-assured, it terribly impulsive woman of twenty. He could deal with a child, he was good with children. But what was he supposed to do with a young woman? Especially one as sweet and intelligent as Belle.

Her hand was still on his, having soothed it out of a fist, and was now stroking his open palm. This was not appropriate at all. She was Sir Maurice’s daughter, not a woman to be dallying with. 

“My lady…” he mumbled, extracting himself from her grasp. She let go quickly, blushing. He missed the warmth of her hand immediately, but it was better this way. Safer. Less messy. It probably meant nothing-- he had no idea how she could ever be interested in him-- but this way lead to less gossip. He’d hate for her reputation to be tarnished by being involved with him.  
***  
What was she doing? Not only had she sent this Sir Rumplestiltskin into a fit of worry over her, but now also made him uncomfortable by touching him inappropriately. No wonder why her father never let her out of the house.

“I’m so sorry.” she said. She tried to put some distance between them, still feeling terribly embarrassed. She went to stand up but rammed her knee into the tea table upsetting it.   
The tea things clattered to the floor. Lovely, could she not act like an idiot for two seconds?

Rumple began picking up the cups and scattered cutlery, grabbing one of the tea towels to try and salvage the carpet. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” She said, kneeling down to help him clean up the spilled tea. She took the other towel and started scrubbing frantically.

"Belle, you really shouldn't be doing this. You'll worsen your sprain. I've got-- OW!" She smacked her head against his, a dull pain blooming in her forehead.

"My gods! I'm so sorry." She touched his head carefully. "That's the second time of done that." 

"I'm fine." He groaned, sitting up. "Really,It was an accident.There's no need to get upset." 

She gave him a watery smile, and began to right the tea things. He picked up one of the cups, noticing a crack in the rim. It was a pretty tea set, white porcelain with a blue flower pattern. It had been her mother’s once upon a time. 

"It's chipped." He handed it over, watching her take it and hold it carefully. 

She ran a careful finger over the rim. "It's just a cup. And anyway, imperfections show how strong we really are. Or at least that’s what Papa said my mother used to say.” Belle smiled at him, holding the cup closer. She was slightly upset her the cup broke-- it was one of the few things she had of her mother’s-- but it meant something more now. 

She sat back on her settee, having rung for more tea, and settled in. Sir Rumplestiltskin looked more at ease now, and sat across from her in the low backed couch.   
The tea was delivered by a slightly harried servant and set back on the tea table. She began to gather the chipped tea set, murmuring something of throwing it out.

“No, please leave it here. It’s not that badly damaged.” Belle picked up the chipped cup again and settled in next to her on the couch. The servant gave her an odd look but scurried out.

“Now, should we try this again?” She asked, flashing him a shy smile.

“Second time’s the charm.”  
***  
A week after the cup incident, Rumplestiltskin came back late. Lady Belle’s father held a meeting to talk about the situation. It wasn’t looking good, honestly. The troops were falling back faster each day and it was only a matter of time until they reached them. Rumple sighed. He’d been up against the ogres before and didn’t particularly want to again.   
He opened the door to her room. 

“Belle?” he called quietly. She was usually barred from the meetings, and she asked him to tell her if it was getting worse. 

He walked into her parlor, and found her asleep. She was curled up on her settee with her book covering half of her face. He removed it carefully, trying not to wake her. 

“S’late.” she mumbled turning towards him. 

“Yes. The conference went late. Do you want to move into bed?” he asked, desperately wanting to reach out correct her mussed curls. 

“No.Comfy.”

“All right, but if you get a crick in your neck don’t come complaining to me.” She mumbled something, probably unflattering about him, and turned to her other side. 

He grabbed a blanket from her bed in the other room and draped it over her. 

“Good night, Belle.” 

“Night, Rumple.” He listened to her breathing soften and slow as she feel back asleep. He cast a glance at the mantle of her fireplace where the chipped cup taken up residence and blew out the last candle. 

He made his way back to his room, trying to figure out a way to best protect his lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, etc. etc.  
> Prompts?  
> Leave them here or at emilianna-pond.tumblr.com.  
> Thank you!


	3. Chapter III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle bakes a cake and Rumple feels his first bit of jealousy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a few weeks since I updated, but here is Chapter 3! Enjoy!

Belle hid herself in one of the few apple trees still standing. The war had been hard on them, many were cut down and replaced by hardier vegetables. Of course, hid was a rather strong word as her ever present guard was staring up at her nervously from the bottom of the tree. 

“Please come down my lady.” he said for about the tenth time. 

“My dear Sir Knight, as I have said before: If you are so worried why don’t you come and join me?”

He scowled and grumped at her, so she chose to ignore him and went back to picking the apples from the tree. 

“Here.” She leaned down from the branch she was straddling and handed her grumpy knight an apple. 

He took it from her carefully and took a bite, still scowling magnificently. It was quite unfortunate that he was still attractive even when he was irritated. 

“Will you come down now?” he growled after her skirt, which she had tucked into the waistband to form a makeshift basket, was full.

“Yes.” She hopped, or rather tumbled, off the tree. He righted her immediately, something he had gotten quite good at over the last few weeks. She trotted off in front of him, leaving him to follow behind like her ever lurking shadow. 

She turned left, which led away from her chambers, and immediately set her night on edge.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice laced with suspicion. 

“I’m going to go back an apple cake. It’s quite good.”

The look of shock and panic on his face was well worth the effort.  
***  
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her-- he did-- it was just that she was clumsy and she just might set herself and the kitchen on fire. At least, that’s what he told himself when he stood behind her and tried not to focus on the delicate arch of her neck.

“Would you stop lurking?” she asked, nearly elbowing him in the stomach. 

Rumple opened his mouth to argue but realized that he very much was lurking. He moved to the back of the kitchen, well out of everyone’s way and watched her finish stirring her batter together.   
He found himself still scowling. He realized, in that logical part of his brain, he needed to stop being so angry. It had been nearly a week and he still hadn’t gotten control over his emotions. His jealousy had all started with the letter Belle received nearly a week ago. 

They were taking their afternoon tea, something he looked forward to everyday. It was one of the few times he was able to just sit and talk to her, as her equal, and not keep to the shadows. They were usually uninterrupted, but that day a servant rushed in bearing a sealed letter.

“My lady.” The servant offered her the letter with a bow and then scurried out of the room.

Belle read the letter, eyes flying across the the page. Her expression darkened as she read. 

“Who’s it from?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“My betrothed,” she replied shortly. 

“Oh.” Jealousy stabbed his heart and shot through his veins. He had to remember Belle wasn’t his. His to protect but not much else. She was Gaston’s betrothed and the only reason why Rumplestiltskin was even here was because Gaston couldn’t be there to watch over her. 

Gaston is better for her, the voice in his head whispered. Why would she ever choose an old, cowardly knight who can’t even take care of his own family, when she could have the most lauded knight in the land? Why would she ever choose you?

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. So Rumplestiltskin let go of his jealousy, of the ever present attraction to her. Or he tried too. He pushed down the jealousy, which turned to anger. And then he took it out on everyone, including Belle. She didn’t deserve that.

He made a note to apologize later, not wanting to interrupt her while she was so content. He certainly did not want to upset her when she was peaceful for once. Although her father tried to keep news of the Ogre Wars away from her, she certainly wasn’t blind to the many wounded and peasants seeking refuge in the walls of the fortress. With every passing day, worry grew in her eyes, and Rumple was beginning to think Belle would have a permanent crease in her lip due to her constant worrying of it.

He found himself growing more and more concerned over his charge, and perhaps not in the ways that were intended.  
***  
Belle thought the apple cake turned out rather well. She brought it up from the kitchens for her and her sir knight to take with their tea. 

She used the chipped cup, something that she knew her knight noticed but had yet to comment on it. She was well prepared for any inquiry, she’d simply say it was a waste of a tea set and it was just a tiny chip. One just had to turn the cup to forgo any injury. 

They sat in an awkward silence. Things had become… strained between them, and Belle was not exactly sure what she had done. It started around the time her fiancé wrote to her, she could tell that much. She wanted to assure him, that she liked Gaston no more than he did. But honestly, where would that get her? It was, most likely, not about Gaston at all, and to say something about how little she liked him would do nothing but create more tension between her and Sir Rumplestiltskin. So she said nothing and did nothing, allowing for the two of them to stew in the uncomfortable silence.

She finished her cake, brushing crumbs off of her fingers and skirt. 

Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat. “You have a crumb.. Right here.” He leaned over the tiny tea table and brushed it off with his thumb. He lingered just a bit too long on the corner of her lip, gently caressing it. They were caught in one another’s gazes. She was trapped in the most delicious way, and, unlike Gaston’s lecherous leers, she had no want to escape.

They realized what they were doing at nearly the same time, pulling away quickly and refusing to meet one another’s eyes.

She could still feel the imprint of his thumb on her cheek. His thumb was rough against her soft skin, callused from years of hard work. 

They sat in silence. Belle mindlessly sipping her tea as she searched for a topic of conversation. She could come up with nothing. There was too much between them and--

“Why,” her sir knight broke the silence. He cleared his throat a bit. “When did you begin baking?” 

“I was raised almost completely by the serving staff here. Papa never thought to find me a nurse, or even a governess. I’d occasionally have a tutor, but I was mostly raised and taught by the servants here.” That lasted only until she was twelve and her father realized she was becoming a young woman and needed to be raised and taught how to be a proper lady. Then she became surrounded by ladies and guards. That was perhaps one of the most upsetting days of her life, when the men and women who raised started to act deferential. She was sent out of the kitchen, barred from helping dust and clean, and lost any parental figure she had. 

Rumpelstiltskin watched her and she realized she had become lost in thought. “Anyway, I spent a good part of my young childhood under the watch of Cook. She used to have me help with recipes and baking to keep me out of trouble and useful. I picked up much more than anyone expected, and I went back to baking occasionally a few years ago.”  
She returned to baking at the start of the Ogre Wars, when every eligible man was called to fight and her father lessened his hold on her daily life. As much as she hated to enjoy it, the Ogre Wars gave her just a bit more freedom than she had earlier.

“It is a very good cake.” Sir Rumplestiltskin conceded as he took the last piece.

She beamed at him. “And I didn’t even burn down the kitchen like you thought I was going to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave kudos, comments, reviews, etc!!  
> If you have a prompt or an idea, remember to leave it here or over on my tumblr at emilianna-pond.tumblr.com!  
> There are tropes next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Don;t forget to leave kudos, comments, you know the drill. I have the first few chapters planned out, but I am ALWAYS open for prompts (for anything I write.) You can leave them here or over at emilianna-pond.tumblr.com.
> 
> Thank you!


End file.
